


Sundays

by reversetheuniverse



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, F/M, fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversetheuniverse/pseuds/reversetheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I finally know how you stand</em><br/><em>Against the worst there is</em><br/><em>I finally found the strength</em><br/><em>You've tried to tell me about</em><br/>~</p><p>Dave works the night shift at a bar where no one ever really comes in after ten at night. No one except for Jade Harley, who manages to twist her way into his world, for better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> _coffeecakey asked:_   
>  _write something based off of "sundays" by daphne loves derby !!_   
> 

There’s always a lull right at ten o'clock at night, Dave finds, a lull that never ceases to make him feel blase about his life. Occasionally a person or two will stumble their way inside Mulligan’s, but the atmosphere is quiet and dull, the gentle hum of the radio filling the emptiness inside the bar. He spends time wiping down glasses once, twice, three times, because what else is there to do when you’re the bartender running the night-shift of the bar at a time when no one ever comes in?

Dave never wanted to be a bartender in the first place. His planned path was in the music industry, something that had called to him long ago. Guitar and dj-ing, he had come to find, were his forte, and he had no further doubts about what he wanted to do with his life. When he graduated high school, he left for Julliard where he found a home, and he never felt more like himself in his life.

 

Until his brother died.

 

Dave packed up his things and silently returned home, finding a part-time job at Mulligan’s serving alcohol to lousy drunks and people who just wanted to forget. It wasn’t Julliard, and it wasn’t him, but it put bread on the table.

 

It was living.

 

His mind remains preoccupied in a state of reverie as the soft _ding_ of the doorway bell rings throughout the place.

“You look awfully glum.” Dave’s eyes lift behind the tinted aviators of his, his gaze meeting a pair of wide, emerald eyes.

“Not glum, just tired.” He sighs, turning to place a beer mug back onto the rack behind him, keeping his cool.

“No, I know tired,” she continues pressing, taking a seat at one of the old, torn bar stools in front of the counter. “And that is _not_ how I’d describe you. You definitely look _glum_.”

“I am not glum,” he continues to fight her on the matter, but he knows it’s a losing battle. It’s too late at night for him to engage fully in debate, and all his thoughts are focused on the beat-up-but-still-comfortable mattress waiting for him at home.

“Fine then. Depressed. Dismal. Gloomy. Melancholy. Take your pick.” Now she’s just fucking with him.

“Wow, you’re insulting me already and I’ve only known you all of two minutes. You do this often to unsuspecting victims?” She giggles behind her hands, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Nope! I just thought you looked lonely. It’s sad to be alone on a Sunday night like this.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but this is my job. I didn’t choose to be this way. And I’m not alone anymore, not with you here.” The girl simply shrugs, tapping on the counter.

“I’d like a lime margarita on the rocks, please … you know, if I’m gonna be here awhile.” Dave raises a brow at her but complies, tossing his towel over the side of his shoulder before he mixes the ingredients of the drink together in the cocktail shaker. He pours the mixed contents into a salt-rimmed glass with ice in it, shoving it towards her. Right as she’s about to reach it, he takes it back, leaning his right arm on the counter as he stares her down.

“Wait just a hot second, how do I know you’re of age? I can’t be soliciting drinks to minors here.” She sighs as she reaches into her purse, tossing a card towards him a second later.

“There you go Mr. Melancholy, I got your proof right here.” He picks the license up and studies it: _Jade Augusta Harley. Birth date: 12-1-92._

“Alright, alright,” he says, pushing the license and margarita in front of her.

“And stop calling me ‘Mr. Melancholy.”

“Fine, but in exchange you have to tell me your actual name. Otherwise I’ll continue inserting adjectives of my choosing.” She extends a hand out to him, a simple gesture yet something that he has the eerie feeling will mean much more to him later. “I’m Jade Harley.” He takes her small hand in his, giving it a firm shake.

“Dave Strider, bartender extraordinaire.”

“Well, Dave Strider, care to give a girl a nice conversation instead of leaving her to wallow about her troubles over alcohol?”

“You don’t look like you have any troubles. You seem pretty happy,” he points out as she takes a sip from her drink. Her eyes wander back up to his, the corners of her mouth tugging upward.

“Doesn’t everyone have troubles? It’s what makes us human.”

“I suppose. So what are your troubles, exactly?” She waggles her index finger in front of his face.

“Ah ah ah, I asked you for a conversation first. You’ve gotta deliver, mister bartender man.” Dave heaves a sigh of exhaustion, crossing his arms as he leans onto the counter.

“Alright, what do you wanna know?”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Eighteen and two.”

“Eighteen and two? So twenty years?” He shakes his head.

“No, I lived here eighteen years, left for three years, then I’ve been back for the last two years.” She rests her elbow on the bar and rests her cheek in her hand, taking a sip of her margarita afterward.

“Hm, interesting. Why’d you leave?” Dave’s mouth twists to the side with uncertainty.

“Music school. Was gonna be a musician up in New York.”

“And you didn’t stay in New York because … ?” He hesitates for a moment before making a sound like a buzzer on a game show, slapping his hand down on the bar.

“Looks like your time is up. My turn.” Jade attempts to protest but Dave ignores her, pressing forward with his own set of questions. “What brings you here?”

“I told you already. You looked lonely, and I wanted a drink. Simple as that.”

“No, I mean what are you doing here in Dallas? I can tell you’re definitely not from the area, so what possessed you to come all the way here to Texas?”

“I wanted to be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader,” she answers, blunt. Dave stops a moment, staring at Jade blankly.

“No way,” he breathes, before Jade breaks into a fit of laughter. She cackles maniacally, throwing her head back as she grips her stomach.

“Oh my god, you actually believed me! You’re a riot, Dave Strider. A real riot!” He can’t help but feel heat rise to his cheeks a bit, and he pushes any further thoughts out of his brain.

“Okay, you’ve had your laugh. Now answer my damn question.” She sobers up after that, wiping away a tear from her eye beneath her round, coke-bottle glasses.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, but a hiccup of a laugh escapes her mouth before she fully suppresses herself. “I’m here because I heard the area was nice. I wanted to open up a flower shop, and after I found a decently priced building, I couldn’t say no to Dallas.”

The minutes tick by as the two become lost in chatter, talking about everything from why the Cowboys should _not_ have lost those last two games to Jade’s pet hamster she had in the third grade. Eventually, she tosses back the rest of her drink then pulls her phone out of her purse, checking the time.

“You got somewhere to be?” Some part of himself, a part he won’t acknowledge nor let rise to the surface, wants her to stay longer. He enjoys her company, and this is the first night in the long, endless string of nights, where he feels as though maybe coming back to Dallas wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be. To have her leave, well, it’d be like letting go a winning lotto ticket.

“I’ve gotta get home. Five in the morning is my wake up time, and if I don’t get my butt in gear I’ll be feeling real sorry tomorrow,” Jade explains to Dave, sliding of the bar stool. She fishes out her wallet and places a twenty on the counter.

“Oh no, I don’t need–” he tries to object but she cuts him off.

“Keep it. See you later, Dave.”

He watches her every movement as she disappears out the door, taking off down the busy sidewalk into the night. With a glance at the clock he gets back to work, making sure everything is in tip-top shape before closing down for the night, returning to his ratty old mattress with the hint of a smile upon his lips.

 

~.~

 

She doesn’t pop back into his life until a week later. It’s not even at the bar this time either, it’s in the light of day where he’s allowed to soak in her essence, to memorize every detail of her person that the haze of a late night would not allow him before.

“Hi, Dave!” Jade waves to him from inside a small flower shop, her emerald eyes shimmering from the rays of the sun pouring in the window. As he steps inside, scents of daisies, roses, carnations–every flower you can possibly think of–fill his nostrils, and he remembers vaguely the same scent wafting from her last week. Her raven hair is knitted carefully into a delicate braid that drapes over the sun-kissed skin of her shoulder, and atop it is a woven-straw hat with a white bow. She gracefully pats down the skirt of her sea green sundress with her gardening gloves, somehow managing to not get dirt on it.

“Uh, hi, Jade,” Dave greets her back with a slight wave before returning his hands to his pants pockets. “Haven’t seen you since last Sunday.” She makes a tiny ‘o’ with her mouth, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Shoot, I knew I’ve been forgetting something this week!” She removes one glove from her hands and reaches into her pocket, digging out a red colored ring and placing it on her exposed ring finger, joining the dozen others lining her fingers. “Sorry about that,” she says as she returns the glove to her hand.

“I’m very forgetful sometimes.”

“S'alright,” Dave shrugs, his face remaining placid. “It’s not like you’re obligated to come in.” Jade shakes her head furiously, her brows furrowing.

“No sir, I _should_ visit you! I mean, if we’re gonna be friends and all. We are friends, right, Dave?” As if he could say no to her.

“Of course. So if we’re going to be friends, then you don’t mind shutting the shop down for an hour and getting a coffee with me?” He’s being straightforward, but he figures why the hell not? He’s got nothing to lose at this point. She flashes a set of pearly white teeth (her buck teeth protrude out from behind her lips with no trouble).

“Sure! Let me grab my purse.”

~

“Wow, you sure like coffee a whole hell of a lot,” Dave points out to Jade after she finishes her third cup, setting the porcelain mug down on the table with a _clink_.

“I drink too much of it,” she groans, sliding her hand onto her stomach.

“Well, at least it’s not alcohol.”

“Why, do you drink a lot of alcohol?” Dumb observation. He’s not gonna answer that.

“ … So, what kind of music are you into?” She let’s the change of subject slide without further prodding, tapping her chin as she mulls over the question.

“All kinds. Indie. Rock. Classical.”

“Hm, what kinds of classical music?”

“Debussy. My grandfather always had me listening to it. He said it’d 'stimulate my mind’ and make me smarter or whatnot. Jokes on him, because I _love_ it,” she muses, staring off into the distance with a sense of longing. “Jokes on me, too, I suppose.”

“So, you get your green thumb from him, as well?” Dave asks. She cuts herself out her trance, returning to her normal, giddy persona.

“No, I didn’t. But I did get some badass rifle skills. I’m a sharpshooter. I always wanted to compete, but I never really got the chance growing up.”

“Damn, that’s pretty fucking cool, not gonna lie. I mean, I’ve got swording skills to boot, but I’d be lying if I hadn’t ever thought about dabbling in the skill of sharpshooting.” He hears the actuality of him fangirling over her and mentally slaps himself. So no cool.

“Maybe I can take you some time! I haven’t gone in awhile, and my rifle needs a little TLC,” Jade offers. God, he might fucking die right then and there. This girl was way too cool for him, and that’s saying a lot. He’s the _epitome_ of cool.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Good! It’s a date then!” A date? _A date?_

 

He thinks he might be okay with that.

 

~.~

 

She’s a godsent. She’s a godsent and he doesn’t deserve to be around an angel like her. But he gets to, and he thanks whatever god up above for every single second he has the opportunity to breathe the same air as her.

Jade putters around Dave’s apartment, lifting various objects and observing them with curiosity, as if she were alien to this earth. Underneath her breath she hums a gentle melody, and before asking her what it is exactly, he just sits and listens to her quiet symphony made with cord and air.

“What is that?” It’s as if she had lost herself in her own make-believe world, and the sound of his voice shattered it at once.

“Huh?”

“What were you humming?” She pauses a moment, eyes not focused on him as she hums the mystery song a moment longer.

“A lullaby,” she decides after careful consideration, returning to her own gentle rhythm once again, returning the picture frame she had picked up to its original spot.

“A lullaby?”

“Mhm. My grandpa used to sing it to me before I slept. Did for a while, actually.”

“Sing it to me.” Dave watches as Jade hesitates a split second, as if she were gathering her thoughts, but then clears her throat, indulging his request.

 

_“Close your eyes and I’ll be there_   
_Cross the way and the sea_   
_Darling there’s nothing to fear_   
_Just hum your sweet melody_

_Pray for bright valleys hillsides_   
_Wait for my gentle caress_   
_Several long days and high tides_   
_And then you’ll return back to me_

_Though we’ve just departed_   
_I miss your laugh and your smile_   
_Remember home’s where the heart is_   
_And I’ll be back in a little while.”_

“Wow, that was gorgeous.” He’s in awe by her voice, and by her lullaby, and he supposes he could drown himself forever in her song.

“Thank you.” Silence engulfs the room after that, and she becomes still, her gaze a thousand-yard stare with the drab carpet. Then he gets this urge, an urge he’s had ever since he met her but hadn’t had the courage to pursue until this very moment. Dave lifts himself from his beat-up couch, pacing slow until he’s only a couple inches away from Jade. She manages to break her focus with the ground as he cups her face, bringing her lips to his. He takes his sweet time with the kiss, and it’s clumsy and difficult with their glasses clinking up against each other’s, but they find pleasant rhythm soon after, her nose resting against his cheek.

“Why’d you do that?” she breathes against the crook of his neck a moment later, her eyes drawn shut.

“You looked like you needed it.”

 

~.~

 

There’s no hint of light within his apartment, not on this day of all days, and he dips down into his silent funk as he washes down the awful taste in his mouth with malt whiskey.

Tonight he’s drunk and he doesn’t give a damn.

He never had anyone to tell him how to deal with this, nor did he want to, because he figured he’d deal with it any way he fucking wanted to. No one knows what he feels. _No one._

“Dave? Open up, I know you’re in there.” He should’ve known shutting off his phone and offering her radio silence all day would get him in trouble, but he makes no plans of getting off his ass and opening the door. “I know you leave a spare key under the mat, so I’m coming in anyway.” _Shit._

She flicks on the lights and he hisses as though he were a vampire of sorts, the bleeding brightness stinging his eyes. He forgot he took his aviators off a long while ago, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore as he’s pulled against Jade’s flush chest, her chin resting atop his head.

“Oh my gosh, is everything okay, Dave? I was really worried when you wouldn’t return my calls, but this … are you drunk?”

“A lil’,” he slurs, but the sound of her heart thrumming inside her rib cage manages to subdue him just a bit.

“You’re dumb,” she breathes, but there isn’t any anger in her tone only … pity? No, not pity. Sympathy.

“S'true.” She utters a small chuckle but keeps her hold on him tight as ever.

“You’re going to have to tell me what’s wrong, you know. I deserve to know the truth, and I’m not going to leave until you do.” He believes her. She’s so fiercely loyal that she’ll stick with anybody through thick and thin. And he trusts her with every fiber of his being, so that’s why he tells her. He tells her everything about his brother, about it being just the two of them growing up, about his brother teaching him sword fighting and every microwave dinner the two shared. He tells her about the day his brother died, and what went through his head. All she does is listen, not expressing a single word the entire time, just threading her fingers through the fine strands of his wheat-blond hair. He talks until he has nothing left to say, and as they slump against each other they fall into a lull of sleep, neither waking up until the late hours of the morning.

 

~.~

 

Jade tugs him awake, placing his shades back upon his face as she mutters,

“Let’s go.” Dave doesn’t have much time to collect his thoughts as she drags him out of his apartment, but he figures he may as well let it happen because if he trusts her enough to confess his own problems to her, then he should trust her enough with whatever crazy ideas she has.

He hopes.

They make a stop in front of her flower shop and she tells him to stay outside while she retrieves something. He nods his head and she disappears inside, returning a moment later with a bunch of bouquets in hand.

“What’s that for–” he starts to say, but she quickly pushes her finger to his lips, shaking her head.

“No questions until we get there.” Jade grab’s Dave’s hand once again and drags him along the crowded sidewalks with a certain determination that he wouldn’t dare break. Hell, he thinks it might even be possible that she’d lug him around the world and he wouldn’t even question it, not a moment.

Eventually their tired legs (or his tired legs, at least) reach the edge of the Trinity River, the cars zipping by on the bridges nearby. Jade grins and removes one of the flowers, popping the bloom off the stem, dropping it into the water below afterward.

“Uh, okay, what the hell are you doing? Are we just randomly throwing this shit in the Trinity, or–” Dave’s confusion is soon cut off by Jade’s own words as she thrusts one of the bouquets in front of him, pointing to the water below.

“We’re doing a memorial of sorts,” she finally explains to him, pushing the flowers forward in order to make him grab it. “I do this every year on the third of June.”

“What happened on the third of June?”

“My grandfather died three years ago.” Ah. There it was, the truth. She was just as broken as he was over death, she just had a better way of hiding it. Or …  
“How come you’re not as hung up about it as I am?” She shakes the flowers in her hands.

“I do this every year on the anniversary of his death, and whenever I’m feeling down. I find a source of water, even if I have to put it in my _bath tub_ ,” she giggles, causing him to follow suit, “And I toss flowers into it. It’s just a thing I’ve done. Sometimes I’ll hum that lullaby I taught you, and I’ll just sit in silence and reflect. It soothes me, and it makes me feel better about him leaving. Of course, I’m still sad. That’ll never go away,” she adds, “But at least believing that his still out there … Each flower is like a little prayer to him.”

“But I’m not sure I … I’m not sure if I’m _religious_ ,” Dave hesitates on the phrasing, but then he feels something soft on his free hand–Jade’s fingers intertwining with his.

“It’s not about being religious. It’s about remember, and it’s about letting go all those sad feelings. You just put silent words into each blossom, and then you let it go. It makes the weight you’re carrying on your shoulders much lighter. Go ahead, try it.” And he does. He tosses out the blossoms from the whole bouquet in his grasp, letting the falling flowers do all the talking. Jade stands beside him quietly, her hand still in his, watching as the flowers float gently upriver. When they run out in the end, the two stand there, just enjoying each other’s company. Dave leans over to Jade at one point and pecks her on the cheek, whispering something into her ear afterward.

 _“I love you.”_ She leans her head against his shoulder and shuts her eyes tight, her lips drawn into a soft, upward curve.

“I love you too, Dave.”

 

~.~

 

Dave’s really come to love Sundays.

 

 

 


End file.
